The Sun Will Rise Again
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is hopeless and unwilling to go on. Oneshot. Trigger warning.


**The Sun Will Rise Again**

**Synopsis: Alfred thinks over his life.**

**Genre: hurt/comfort**

**Rating: T (possible trigger warning)**

**-speaking of that, there may be a trigger warning. But this is a ray of hope for all you suffering. I know how it feels, I'm going through it, but you can't give up just yet. **

**oneshot**

* * *

Alfred fished through the pillows. The TV hawked its wires behind him, illuminating his exposed back and a strip of his underpants. He had thrown caution about his appearance away and forgotten about it lately. He scratched at his stubble, adjusting his smeared glasses. He finally found the remote control, wedged between two couch cushions. Sighing in victory, he slumped back down on the pillows, popped open a bag of chips, and resumed watching TV. He flipped through the channels.

"Oh, my poor dear!" A soap-opera bellowed at him. He frowned and clicked on.

"Are you ready to change your life?" An advertisement followed. The man grinned at Alfred with bleached-white teeth. He pulled up a book and held it to the camera. _To Change or Not To Change?_ it was titled. He opened the book to a cartoon drawing of a man scratching his head. "It's this simple! Just read the book, and not all of it either! Just a little each day and boom! The new you is already coming forth!"

Alfred thrust his finger to the key, changing the channel again.

After several minutes of monotone clicking, he decided on shutting off the TV and clicking on the light bulb. It swung dangerously on a thin chain and flooded the room with watery yellow light.

He grew flustered, walking around the room and clicking at junk and dirty laundry.

It wasn't his fault he couldn't get a job in the past few days. He felt that conviction truer than any piece of logic possibly to be thrown at him. He slouched into the bathroom, glancing at his reflection. He had really let himself go. Pimple pricks lined his chin, his eyes were enveloped in purple bags, his hair tangled in a thousand and one places, and his teeth had a tinge of yellow.

He pushed down the faucet, splashing his face with chilly water. Ever since he had sustained an injury to his head, he'd had problems thinking clearly and learning.

Well…

He pulled his toothbrush out and rinsed it.

He always kept a low IQ and learning disabilities plagued his brain ever since he could remember.

He applied toothpaste and slowly brushed his teeth, trying to remove the ugly tints.

But, he had football and soccer and so many other sports. He did well in school, getting good, passing grades to stay in the after-school sports.

Then, on a misty day in the middle of August, a football hurled by an amateur smacked his temple and he passed out cold. He later woke with a mild case of amnesia and a serious case of agony.

The weeks folded into months, then, and he wasn't allowed to play sports anymore. He dropped out of high school and picked up a simple job at a grocery store, buying himself this meager apartment. His boyfriend sometimes visited, but he had college and couldn't abandon that for a lost cause.

Alfred spat angrily into the sink, leaving the bathroom for his bedroom/living room. That was it. There were three rooms: his bathroom, bedroom/living room, and a small kitchen. The kitchen held stacks of unwashed dishes and had attracted a clump of flies. Alfred felt compelled, briefly, to shoo them and collect the dishes, but the next moment he felt unmotivated for anything.

What was the point to life? He thought, sliding open his drawer. He found a striped tie, saved for the rare occasion he'd get a job interview.

He still worked at the grocer's, but that was it. He made money, spent it on his home and tiny amounts of food, and otherwise stayed at home staring at his boxy TV.

He wrapped the tie around his neck and stepped onto his bed. The chain, despite being thin, proved to be sturdy. He knotted the other end of his tie around the chain.

What was there for him to live for? He had no family, his boyfriend probably already found someone else, his parents were long gone, his job could easily replace him, so no one would really care.

He balanced on the pillows, reading to jump off.

Just then, the rim of the sky, visible clearly from his position through the miniature window, peeled away into day. A faint orange light lined it, as though Night were being pulled off like a sticker. The stars grew fainter as the Sun; the hero, the divinely chosen, came to rescue the world from darkness.

Alfred stared at it and sighed, undoing the knot and replacing the tie in its drawer.

His Sun may yet come.


End file.
